Chapter 1
Groomzillas Are A Thing Too
Ihate Mondays.
Sitting in the back of The Mud Hut, I couldn’t stop staring at the clock on the far wall. Over twenty minutes late and still no word from the bride and groom, my latest potential clients.
I was already on my second cup of coffee—the largest one they would serve me—but I still wasn’t awake enough to be impatiently waiting.
Punctuality was overly important in my world. If I left a customer waiting for the better part of half an hour, I wouldn’t expect them to hire me. How could this couple be so thoughtless?
I’ll give it another five minutes.
Thumbing through the Pinterest board the groom had sent me with all their favorite wedding photos on the internet, I sighed. Their wedding was going to be breathtaking. I loved when couples had a clear idea of what they wanted and were excited about their big day. Also, the organized ones were my favorite. There was no doubt in my mind that I would be able to capture many of the same timeless shots depicted on their wedding inspiration board.
Five minutes dragged by. I tossed all my stuff into my messenger bag and was ready to throw in the towel. Just as I was about to type out a text message asking to reschedule, a frenzied blonde rushed over to my table with a well-dressed man right on her heels.
“Sawyer Henderson? Oh please be you!” she wailed as she huffed into the seat across the tiny table.
“You must be Misty and Rayford.” Forcing a cheery grin, I put my bag down and began to take my laptop back out of its case.
The man chuckled, pulling a seat out for himself. “Not the groom, just the brother, Trace.”
Taking his outstretched hand, I quickly took notice of his perfect teeth, bright green eyes, and chiseled, scruff-covered jaw.
No ring.
Damn, he’s cute.
What are you doing, Sawyer?
Get a grip! You’re working!
“Nice of you to join us, Trace.” I chortled before turning to the bride. “You are Misty, right?”
Throwing her hands onto the worn wood, she panted as she replied, “Yes, and I am so, so,sosorry we’re this late. Rayford wrote it on our wedding calendar for the wrong time and when you emailed me this morning to confirm, I was on a phone meeting with the baker,again.Rayford is insisting we have the cake shipped in from this incredible baker in Chicago, O’Donnell’s. Have you heard of them? Apparently, they are the best of the best, and Rayford only wants the best for our big day.”
Misty was talking a mile a minute, and I thought maybe we shouldn’t have met at a coffee place. Lord knows that girl did not need any more energy coursing through her tiny body.
“You’re here now, and that is what matters. I love the wedding photos y’all put together. It was really helpful in getting a clear picture of what you’re looking for. I think we will be able to get a majority of the must-have shots with ease.”
I could see stress melt away from Misty as she leaned back in her chair. “That is such a relief. I have spoken to seven photographers and none of them understood our vision. Rayford wants to make sure we can look back on our wedding photos with our grandchildren someday and be proud to share the memories.”
Trace rolled his eyes. Shooting him a little smirk, I queried, “What do you think of the image your sister and her beau have for their big day?”
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m just here for moral support since Ray is stuck driving over to Atlanta right now.”
“He really wanted to be here for this. Rayford has been so involved.” Misty put her hand on her chest as she swooned about her hubby-to-be.
“I am more than happy to chat with him over the phone when he has some time if need be, just in case he has specific questions for me that we don’t cover today.”
Like magic, Misty pulled a notebook out of her purse and flipped to an earmarked page. “I have a list he put together last night before he got ready for his work trip. He made sure to think of everything.”
Great. He’s one of those grooms.
I’d always thought brides were hard to handle. Then I met a few groomzillas, andgoodnessthey were insane.
I pursed my lips and forced a tight-lipped grin. “Lay them on me.”